


Word Association

by Eldabe



Series: 30_hath Challenge Fics [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Love Letters, Love Triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldabe/pseuds/Eldabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron really has no idea how to write a love letter, ok?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word Association

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [30_hath](http://community.livejournal.com/30_hath) challenge-a-day community on Livejournal. 
> 
> More details can be found on my dreamwidth [here](http://eldabe.dreamwidth.org/4828.html).

“Won-Won,” Lavendar said, sliding her arms over Ron’s shoulders, “I think you should write me a poem.”

Ron spat half his pumpkin juice across the table. “What?”

“A poem,” Lavendar repeated, sliding into the seat next to him. Harry raised an eyebrow, then got up from the table. Ron was on his own.

“What d’you need a poem for?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“To symbolize our undying love, of course,” Lavender said impatiently. “And I think you should go write one right now.”

Ron’s jaw dropped in astonishment. Then he noticed that amount of students in the Gryffindor common room watching this exchange. He blushed.

“Fine,” he mumbled, gathering up his books. “I’ll go write you a poem.”

Lavender grinned as Ron gathered his stuff, then rushed up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. He dumped his books next to the bed before collapsing on it.

“Bloody poem,” he muttered, grabbing some parchment and a quill. He stared at the parchment for a few seconds, his mind completely blank. He started twirling the quill between his fingers nervously.

Just then Seamus walked in, whistling, his bag slung over his shoulders.

“Hey, Seamus,” Ron called desperately from his bed. “How’d you write a love poem?”

Seamus blinked, surprised, then he shrugged. “I dunno. Write about her hair in the moonlight, or how her eyes glow like jewels, or something like that.” Seamus dropped his bag by his bed, and started to head downt to the common room again.

Ron blinked. Hair in the moonlight? He could do that! “Thanks, Seamus!” he called, then got down to work.

_“Your hair in the moonlight,”_ he wrote on the top of the page, then paused. What did Lavender’s hair look like in the moonlight? Had he ever seen her hair at night? What color was Lavender’s hair? Brown. It must be brown. What did brown hair look like in the moonlight? Ron frowned as he thought.

Hermione had brown hair. And when she stood in the moonlight, her hair had this silvery glow around it. In fact, Ron probably would have failed Astronomy entirely if Harry hadn’t kept poking him in the ribs. Hermione’s hair had this tendancy to glitter when she moved her telescope…

Ron shook his head. Ok, so he couldn’t write about Lavender’s hair. He scribbled out his first sentence. What about her eyes? Ron chewed his lip anxiously. What color were Lavender’s eyes?

Hermione’s eyes were brown, Ron was sure of it. A soft kind of brown, and they crinkled up when she laughed and they narrowed dangerously when she was angry. They also got really wide when she tried not to cry, and Ron remembered…

No, Lavender. He was supposed to be writing about Lavender. Ron looked down at his piece of parchment, and sighed. If he were on good terms with Hermione right now, he might have asked her to recommend a good love poem to copy. But maybe not. The thought of asking Hermione for a love poem for someone else seemed wrong.

Ron chewed on the end of his quill, then spat, trying to get the taste of feather out of his mouth. What was romantic? Nature, nature was romantic. So he should write something about nature.

_“Morning dewdrops is the garden,”_ he wrote, trying to figure out how to connect that to love. But when he reread the line, all he could think about was one morning before fourth year, when Hermione was running barefoot in his garden, trying to catch Crookshanks.

Ron angrily scribbled out his last line. He decided to go for short and simple and obvious.

_“I love you, Lavender Brown!”_ he scribbled, his handwriting sloppy and large, trying to compensate for the fact that he had no clue what to do. Then he stared at the sentence in horror.

No, there was no way he could give that to Lavender Brown. He _didn’t_ love her, and he wasn’t going to lie outright just so she would keep snogging him, it wasn’t worth it.

“Incendio,” Ron whispered, and the parchment burst into flame. He stated at the empty space in his hand, imagining another name beside Lavender Brown next to the words, “I love you.”

Then he grabbed his bookbag and swung it onto his shoulders. He would go to the library, he decided, and find some stupid love poem there. Something boring, about snogging and food, if at all possible. And nothing to do with Hermione Granger!


End file.
